firecracker ???

The clock at Platform Nine and Three Quarters struck eleven, and the scarlet steam engine let out a long, low hiss.

The platform was crowded with parents saying their goodbyes, trunks being levitated into the train, and owls hooting impatiently in cages. But above all the usual back-to-Hogwarts chaos, one thing dominated the air: gossip.

"The Malfoy Yule Ball," whispered a third-year girl with pink earmuffs.

"I heard the snow fell indoors—real snow!"

"No, enchanted. It never touched the floor."

"They had an orchestra that played itself."

"Lyra Black walked down the staircase with Regulus Black—Regulus. He hasn't been seen at a pureblood event in years."

"My cousin swore they had Veelas!"

"No you idiot! The Malfoys are the Veelas."

Inside the train, the talk continued—more hushed, but just as persistent.

Everywhere she walked, Lyra could feel it.

Eyes followed her, heads turned when she passed compartments. They tried to hide it—some failed. Some didn't even try. It wasn't anything she hadn't handled before, but now the scale had shifted. Not just curiosity anymore. Not just the Malfoy name.

Now it was her.

She walked with her usual elegance, chin lifted, her grey fur cloak trimmed in fur and fastened with a carved silver clasp. She was calm, composed, and as unreadable as ever.

But even she could feel the shift.

She sat in the same carriage as always—the middle one, private but not isolated—where the Slytherin core group naturally regrouped like magnets returning to place.

Theo Nott sprawled first onto the seat across from her. Pansy slid in beside him, Daphne across from her. Blaise entered with a book and didn't open it once. And finally, Draco appeared, scowling faintly as he yanked the door shut behind him and flopped into the space beside Lyra.

No one said anything for a long moment.

Then, predictably, it began.

"You should've seen it," Theo said aloud, mostly to himself. "She walked into the ballroom and the temperature dropped ten degrees."

Pansy laughed. "People gasped."

"Some of the older guests bowed," Daphne added smugly.

"They didn't bow," Lyra murmured, reaching into her bag for a flask of enchanted tea. "They... dipped."

"Same thing," Theo said. "And when Regulus showed up—"

Draco made a small noise of irritation in his throat.

"—there was a gasp," Theo went on cheerfully, ignoring him. "One of the Parkinson aunts had to sit down."

"Wasn't that because she drank too much faerie wine?" Daphne asked.

"Doesn't matter," Blaise said, smiling. "Lyra looked like vengeance dressed in moonlight, and your uncle looked like he just walked out of a cursed portrait. Perfect pair."

Draco's scowl deepened.

Lyra didn't reply.

She sipped her tea, expression impassive, though her friends knew her well enough to read the flicker of satisfaction in the way her lip curved, barely.

Then Theo leaned back, hands behind his head, and said in a voice just too casual, "So... how's your pen pal?"

Draco's eyes snapped to him.